


falling for you

by skeletalparade (boythighs)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boythighs/pseuds/skeletalparade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how Hinata Shouyou, recently eighteen and still no taller for it, ends up with one foot at a precarious, risky balance on the lowest level shelf, and the other teetering on the edge of the next one up. He’s just about got the deodorant, too, where it’s pushed a little back and his fingers are finally starting to brush it, when he feels the entire shelf give a foreboding <em>lurch</em>. In a blind panic, Hinata quickly loses his footing, trying to ensure that he doesn’t take the whole rack down with him.</p><p>Everything seems to go in slow motion; he topples back, eyes still locked on the stupid, fucking deodorant, half a mind to sue the company after this – provided he survives the catastrophe – when, suddenly, blissfully, thankfully his descent to the quickly rising floor is prevented by a pair of arms locked beneath the (likely sweaty, stinky) pits of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling for you

**Author's Note:**

> i, uh. must admit that this may have gotten away from me, just a bit. originally, i had only intended for it to be maybe 2.4k words? or less? but then i kept writing and couldn't seem to stop, sooooo. oops? but i hope you enjoy it, anon!
> 
> based on the tumblr prompt:
>
>> So uh....... I can send you prompts? Okay, here's one: Hinata reaches for something on a store shelf but because he's 162cm he can't reach anything he falls over dramatically and (stranger) Kageyama swoops in, catches him, and awkwardness ensues. (Or any other haikyuu ship, really) *leaves candy and scurries away*

* * *

 

It is with great disdain that Hinata eyes the top shelf in all of its daunting horror, the deodorant he prefers (and sort of _has_ to use, since the other, cheaper stuff usually causes him to break out; and believe him, alright, rashes in your armpit are _not_ a fun time) sitting up there, leering at him. Taunting his height – or lack thereof. With eyes squinting, mouth twisted and pinched up to the side, curved into a pouting sneer, he contemplates his options, here. Asking for help might be the best move to make, but he doesn’t see any shop assistants around, and hunting one down is a nuisance he’s not in the mood to deal with.

Other options include: scaling the shelving like a mountain climber, getting on his tiptoes and reaching, hoping for the best, or, alternatively, foregoing the deodorant altogether until he can make his mom go out and by it for him and have it sent in her next care package.

This is how Hinata Shouyou, recently eighteen and still no taller for it, ends up with one foot at a precarious, risky balance on the lowest level shelf, and the other teetering on the edge of the next one up. He’s just about got the deodorant, too, where it’s pushed a little back and his fingers are finally starting to brush it, when he feels the entire shelf give a foreboding _lurch_. In a blind panic, Hinata quickly loses his footing, trying to ensure that he doesn’t take the whole rack down with him.

Everything seems to go in slow motion; he topples back, eyes still locked on the stupid, fucking deodorant, half a mind to sue the company after this – provided he survives the catastrophe – when, suddenly, blissfully, thankfully his descent to the quickly rising floor is prevented by a pair of arms locked beneath the (likely sweaty, stinky) pits of his own. Hazy, wide, honey eyes flicker up to see the grumpiest, most annoyed face Hinata thinks he’s ever laid eyes on. The world kicks back into real time as he meets the piercing blue gaze of his agitated savior, and his heart, not unlike the shelving had before, gives an uncomfortable lurch.

Despite the grumpiness, which Hinata has no doubt he’s caused, the other, much, much taller guy is _pretty_. Pale skin, dark hair with a precious cowlick positioned towards the back of his head, a nose that slopes down and flicks out at the end delicately, and strong, sturdy arms that, hey, are still supporting Hinata. Right.

Hurriedly, Hinata rights himself on his feet, not wanting to admit it, but missing the warmth of a stern body pressed along his back, and whirs around with a sheepish grin, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

“S-sorry!” He stammers out, shuffling his shoes and doing his best to look apologetic. For his part, the guy – who Hinata realizes, with a subtle glance down (he’s _not_ trying to check him out… _much_ ) is a worker at this fine establishment – looks no less murderous, intent to cut through skin and bone with nothing but the ice cold glare he’s delivering. Now, it might just be Hinata’s imagination, or the swift rush of blood to his head now that he’s not in danger of dying causing him to hallucinate, but he fancies a chill _might_ just run down his spine and leave him with a vague, gentle shudder. Scary.

“What the hell were you doing?” The guy’s words come out in a low hiss, clearly not trying to cause a scene. Or, well, more of a scene. It seems that some people have started casting wary glances down the aisle they’re currently standing in, curious about all of the fuss. Or curious as to why the shelf had almost fallen over. Either one.

“There’s – deodorant.” Hinata says, giving himself a sure fire point for Extraordinary Eloquence. What this actually entails is a wince, realizing just how stupid he sounds and, as a whole, how stupid this entire situation really is. In hindsight, it really might have just been easier to have asked for help, especially if Cute Store Clerk had been lurking by close enough that he’d been able to rush to Hinata’s aid before he’d met his untimely end. Seriously, he’s got a game tomorrow. His _first college game_ , which is a really big deal. It proves that, despite _everything_ that _everyone_ had ever said about him being too short, or the discouraging words of not being good enough, Hinata _is_ good enough.

His full-ride to Waseda on a volleyball scholarship more than proves it, too.

Anyway, hence the deodorant run; no one on his team deserves to smell his nasty armpit stank on the way back from the match when there’s already going to be enough reeking going on, so he’d figured he’d buy some tonight to avoid imminent B.O. tomorrow on the bus ride home.

As of so far, it might have served him better just to have gone without. A little stench never killed anyone, right? But mortification – now, _that’s_ another story.

Eyebrows drawing together on his forehead, Hot Store Guy gives him possibly the most perplexed, aghast look Hinata has ever had focused on him. “So you thought that climbing the shelf to get it instead of asking for help like a normal person was a good idea?” He asks, and.

Yes. Yes, that is exactly what Hinata had thought. He shrugs helplessly, feeling stupid. Just a little. It’s not the first bad idea he’s had, and it certainly won’t be the last. He tells the guy as much, and he just sighs, even more put-out than before, and nudges Hinata to the side. At first, Hinata has the audacity to be indignant, half a mind to snap and demand that he not be treated like a child. But then he realizes what’s going on, his mouth quickly snapping shut, the glare melting from his face to be replaced by a dazzling grin.

The guy is reaching up and getting his deodorant for him.

Because he’s so much taller, he has no difficulty retrieving it from its hiding spot. What had been an expedition for Hinata is nothing but an insignificant, time consuming simplicity for the guy. He turns back to Hinata and hands it to him.

“Here,” he says, pushing it into Hinata’s waiting hands none too gently. Hinata forgives him right away, as there’s a nice patch of color blossoming over the harsh, masculine apples of the worker’s cheeks. “Next time, just ask someone. It’ll be easier and less expensive than having to inevitably pay for everything you ruin when you topple over the entire shelf, alright?”

With a gaunt pallor distilling the rosy color of his face, Hinata gulps something fierce. Shit, he hadn’t even considered the potential damages he’d be held accountable for if he had actually pulled the shelf down. A glance over his shoulder reveals a lot of makeup products in tiny, breakable, _evil_ glass bottles. No way could his starving college student funds cover all of _that_. The redhead bobs his head in a jerky nod, squeaking out an agreeing noise.

The sound of a breathy chuckle causes him to turn harshly, catching sight of a small – but it’s there, it’s really there, not just in his head – grin, eyes a little lifted at the corners. Hinata swallows, thinking rather belatedly that he still hasn’t thanked the guy at all.

“Uh – thanks…?” By allowing his words to trail off, he hopes it’ll be prompt enough for the other to tell him his name. Instead, he just taps at his chest, and Hinata realizes that, duh, _fucking_ duh, he’s wearing a fucking name tag. Because he’s an employee. Jesus Christ. Right there for all to see, the name _Kageyama_ is printed in an inelegant scrawl. Even his _name_ is pretty.

“Thank you, Kageyama.” He says, twisting and curling his tongue over each delicate syllable with deliberate intent, loving the way it feels in his mouth and sliding out over his lips. Kageyama gives him a curt nod, a strange look passing over his face for a moment, mouth opening and shutting like he wants to say something but just can’t seem to get it out. After a second, though, he grunts and turns, stalking off back down the aisle with his shoulders tense. While he’s not an awful person, Hinata is by no means a saint, so he feels no shame in allowing his eyes to wander, enjoying the way Kageyama’s black work pants are tight, pulled taut around the sloping curve of his ass.

Even after Kageyama has rounded the corner onto another aisle, perhaps off to save more idiots from themselves (though such an idea is unlikely, given that no one is as big of an idiot as Hinata), Hinata stands there, deodorant clutched in his hands, smiling like a moron.

All at once it hits him that he’s probably got a teensy bit of a crush on this guy he’s just met, and all he can think, with a startling amount of alarm, is,

 _Uh-oh_.

☀

So this is why Hinata begins what he likes to call Operation: Get Kageyama the Cute Store Clerk to Ask Me Out on A Date, but what his roommate, a quiet boy named Kenma, much prefers to call _Shouyou, you’re only making an ass out of yourself_ , and what Kenma’s boyfriend, Kuroo, likes to call a _very, very good idea, Hinata-kun, 10/10, would recommend_ , with a lot of smirking and evil laughter involved, which, admittedly, is sort of unsettling if Hinata is being honest. But that’s just Kuroo in general, and he’s spent enough time around him at this point to be at least a little immune to the worst of his skeeviness.

Plus, Kenma likes him (a lot, even more than he lets on, Hinata knows; he’s caught him smiling down at texts before, and he’s seen the way Kenma looks at Kuroo when he thinks no one is paying attention), so Hinata knows he can’t be _all_ that bad.

Still skeevy, though.

What Hinata’s plan entails, for the most part, really and truly isn’t far off from what Kenma accuses him off. Ever since that first night at the store, Hinata has been coming up with thinly veiled (blatant) excuses to pay more visits. Usually the things he goes for he doesn’t really need – but he’s glad he’s been doing it, because thanks to his often haphazard visitations to the Karasuno drugstore, Hinata now knows the following:

  1. Kageyama works only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Every other day, in his place is a dimpling, sweetly smiling clerk named Sugawara, who picks up on Hinata’s tomfoolery pretty quickly when he catches him snooping around and forces Hinata to begrudgingly own up to what he’s doing. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, however, if the way he laughs and tells him Kageyama’s schedule is anything to go by. Sugawara is, in Hinata’s humble opinion, a bit of an (angelic) enabler.

  2. Kageyama goes to a university about a half hour away by train, and only works at the drugstore because his uncle had been the manager at some point and had given him the job when he’d started college in the fall.

  3. Kageyama plays volleyball. This comes directly from Kageyama himself one evening when Hinata has not only managed to send an entire rack of magazines onto the floor (only _somewhat_ on purpose) but also knocks over a stand of stuffed toys (not at _all_ on purpose; he’s just clumsy and hadn’t been paying attention, the round of Kageyama’s ass much more interesting than stupid stuffed aliens and monsters). Hinata is so overjoyed by this, gushing about his own team and how he’s so glad they have something that important in common, that he _almost_ misses the way Kageyama lights up when he discovers that Hinata also plays. Almost.




There are other things, too. Things like how Kageyama really isn’t as much of an asshole as he seems, that the whole thing is a ruse to cover up how much of a dork he is. He likes to read trashy gossip rags when business is slow, he loves to drink milk, but only out of the boxes with the little bendy straws, because it reminds him of his childhood and his grandmother who’d never been short of them. He learns that Kageyama is rooming with a guy named Oikawa, two years his senior, and Oikawa’s boyfriend, and that Oikawa has a messed up love-hate relationship with Kageyama based on the foundations of teaching him life lessons through cruel, unnecessary, usually hilarious means.

Also that Oikawa and his boyfriend have very, very loud sex, though that admission is more of an accident when he and Hinata are mopping up a spilled coke (Hinata’s fault) one night and Hinata notices how he’s more grumpy than usual.

“What’s wrong?” Hinata had asked, hands sticky with coke where they were buried in sopping wet paper towels. The creases on Kageyama’s forehead had been more prominent than normal, as if gravity was tug, tug, tugging them downward.

“It’s my stupid roommate.” He muttered as he’d tossed his own icky towels into the trashcan by the door, staring down at his nasty fingers with disgust.

“Oikawa-san?” Hinata blinked owlishly, head tilted just slightly to the left. Business was, as per a Wednesday night, nonexistent. It was just the two of them, accompanied by the slow, creaking groan of the nearby fridges. “What’s he done this time?”

Kageyama snorted, snatching more paper towels off the roll to kneel back down next to Hinata and help get the remnants of Hinata’s drink off the tile. Hinata is a little disappointed, he’d admit; truth be told, he really had wanted that drink. Spilling it had not been his priority, that time.

“More like what he’s _always_ doing. He and Iwaizumi-kun never know how to quiet down when they’re going at it like rabbits and it’s–” In a flash, he realized what he’d said, twisting his lips closed with eyes going comically wide.

Jaw dropping in shock, Hinata found himself screeching with sudden, uncontrollable laughter, amplified when Kageyama reached over, yelling at him to shut the fuck up as he shoved his shoulder, sending him careening onto the floor, still howling with guffaws. Hinata knew he wasn’t really angry, though, because he had looked up between fits of laughter, and he’d seen the way Kageyama was grinning even as he scrubbed furiously at the mess on the floor. Hinata had sobered so quickly, caught up in how pretty Kageyama was when he smiled, that it left him lightheaded and feeling as if he might just float away.

These days, Hinata rarely even has to vie for Kageyama’s attention in the form of making a mess. Now he has the luxury of just showing up when he knows the other will be on shift, and make himself right at home, keeping him company well into the night, until Hinata’s practically dead on his feet when he boards the train home, exhausted but pleased as punch and high off of the interactions with his Hopeless Little Crush. It’s a lot like being a kid again, sitting in the sandbox with cute girls (and boys) and helping them build sandcastles in exchange for hugs and handholding.

Here’s the thing, though.

Sometimes, Hinata gets the feeling that it might not be quite as hopeless as he’d initially thought. At first, it had been nothing more than Hinata pining from a distance, showing up whenever Kageyama was working in order to mess something up, just so Kageyama would glare at him and tell him off for being so reckless and clumsy. “ _Useless Hinata,”_ he’d say, “ _stop barging in and messing shit up, dumbass!”_ To which Hinata had always laughed and offered to help clean up, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to be around Kageyama for just a little longer.

After a while, they’d become friends. Kageyama yelling at him to be more careful had slowly morphed into Kageyama shoving at him gently, mumbling about how clumsy he was, and then further into exasperated eye rolls and sighs, to now, when Hinata can stroll in on a Monday night and drag up the spare stool behind the counter where Kageyama already waits, and just start complaining about his professors, about suicide drills, and how horrible burpees are on his tiny, fragile legs.

And he’s caught Kageyama, _more_ than once, staring at the way Hinata sometimes rolls the ball of his tongue piercing between his teeth when he’s distracted or zoned out. Every time, he always looks away flustered when Hinata blinks over at him, asking him why he’s staring. Hinata knows what interest looks like, even if he’s never seen it directed at him before now. Kageyama sometimes looks at him the way Kuroo looks at Kenma, or how Smiley Suga looks at _his_ boyfriend when he comes to pick him up from work. Like he’s something special, something to be treasured. Like _Hinata_ looks at _Kageyama_ , which Kageyama would know, if Kageyama would only ever be looking at him at the same time.

At some point they’ll stop working themselves in circles, but, for now, Hinata is quite content resting his head on the counter behind the register, listening to Kageyama rant on and on about how awful Oikawa is as a roommate. After all, he would gladly listen to the sound of Kageyama’s voice all day, if he could.

☀

Summer comes in a hurry. Sweltering heat ushered in as the winter chill lets itself out, bidding them a too-fast adieu, bypassing spring entirely, almost. It’s the time of year when Hinata has to start tying his hair back to keep it off of his poor, undeserving neck, which gets sweaty too easily during practice with his extra hair length sticking to it grossly. The first time Kageyama sees him with it pulled back, he does a visible double take, blanching. Hinata laughs at the look on his face and shrugs.

“I have to.” He tells him. “It just gets in the way, otherwise, but I like keeping it this long.”

It becomes a commodity, one that earns him a lot of hungry, _fastfastfast_ glances from Kageyama from the corners of eyes, when Hinata is turned away, or when he thinks that Hinata isn’t paying attention to the way he’ll occasionally glance at the hair at the base of his head, fastened at the nape with a black hair tie. Hinata does pay attention, though, and he’s not sure why Kageyama is so enamored by his new hairstyle, chalking it up to just another weird Kageyama thing. As long it means having Kageyama’s eyes on him more often, who is Hinata to complain?

Hinata tugs at the lobe of his ear, twisting the silver spiral of his piercing between his fingers as he frowns down at the book he’s got set up on the counter. The time of night has come where the only customers are half asleep college goers wandering in intermittently, periodically, meaning that he and Kageyama are alone as it currently stands.

Hinata has the horrible burden of summer reading, whereas Kageyama has seemingly gotten off scot-free, the bastard. It’s not long, though, before Hinata simply cannot bear the feeling of eyes boring holes into the side of his head, so he glances up from the boring, dreadful, awful text he’s been halfheartedly perusing, and gives his full attention to Kageyama, who doesn’t bother trying to look away when he knows he’s been caught. So shameless. The book closes with the whip-quick flutter of pages, Hinata giving it much better purpose when he presses his cheek to the cool front cover of it and uses it as a pillow.

“You’ve been staring at me all night. What gives?” His words are a little slurred thanks to his cheek being smashed in by the book, but he’s proud to say that they come out coherent enough nonetheless.

Normally when Hinata calls him out on his staring, Kageyama gets embarrassed, flushing and spluttering and yammering on about how Hinata is imagining things, dumbass, because why would I be staring at you, huh? Tonight, he does none of that. Kageyama levels Hinata with a blank look, and shrugs. “You’ve got a ton of piercings. I never really noticed them before, because your hair was always in the way.”

“Oh.” Hinata says, pleasantly surprised. That’s right. Kageyama has never seen him during the summer before, when all of his various body modifations are on full display. “Yeah, I got ‘em in high school. My mom says it was a rebellious phase, but that doesn’t make sense, because _she’s_ the one who took me to the shop to get it all done.” He mimics Kageyama’s shrug from before. “I got my lobes done, but I liked them so much that I kept going back. I think I want a nose piercing next…” Trailing off, the last bit more for himself than it is for Kageyama, Hinata hums, low and deep in his chest, thoughtful. He closes his eyes and sighs, soaking in the momentary silence.

Doesn’t last very long, not when there’s a hand brushing over the cartilage of his ear, smoothing hair out of his face before gentle, curious fingers toy with the silver hoops and studs that adorn the shell of Hinata’s ear.

Another, breathier sigh passes through his lips, cheeks hot. Hinata _knows_ he has sensitive ears. It’d been something of an important discovery, his first semester of college, at his first college party, shoved into a corner with a nameless face, kissing and biting and sucking, bruises the morning after that Kuroo had smirked at, poked and prodded at, until Hinata had batted his fingers away and shuffled off to his bedroom to nurse the pounding of his poor, inexperienced head, free of watchful, silently judging eyes.

Now, his eyes open in a fluttering of lashes, heavy though they are, mouth slightly agape, gaze fixed on the intense, serious look on Kageyama’s face. Hinata wants to kiss him. Hinata wants to kiss him, and hold his hand, and take him out on dates, and maybe let _Kageyama_ push him up against the wall and leave marks all over his neck and chest, press bruising fingertips into his hips that Hinata can trace later, smile at softly, sigh at wistfully, more than once. Every day, maybe. Forever.

“You never told me your name.” Kageyama says quietly, fingers still on his ear, playing with it in a way that makes Hinata shiver, almost missing Kageyama’s words so caught up in the feeling as he is.

“Huh?” He mumbles, his breath coming harder than he’d like to admit. Kageyama needs to stop touching his ear, or they’re definitely going to have a… sticky situation on their hands.

Seriously. Hinata’s not kidding about the sensitive ears.

“That first night, when you almost knocked over the entire shelving unit to get to the deodorant.” Hinata flushes in shame, grumbling. Kageyama smiles ( _pretty_ ) and keeps going. “You didn’t tell me your name. I wanted to ask, but I thought it might be a little weird. Then, you came back a few nights later, and made another mess. And _again_. Finally, I asked Suga if he knew you, and he told me your name.” For the first time since he’s started talking, he looks Hinata in the eyes, his hand ( _finally_ , thank god, but _please_ come back) moving from his ear to card through his hair, soft and gentle.

He’s unsure if he’d liked his ear being played with more, or this, soft fingers tangled in the curling orange locks of his hair, the occasional scratch of a filed down nail over his scalp.

Hinata, a little at a loss for words, has a hard time forming a complete sentence for a minute, lulled into soft complacency by the hand in his hair and the look Kageyama is wearing. So serious, full of adoration, and, god, oh _god_ , Hinata wants to kiss him _so fucking badly_. “Why did you want to know my name?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. Somehow, he still manages.

Kageyama takes a long, torturous minute to answer, gazing at Hinata so softly Hinata feels like he might explode if he doesn’t get on with it. “I thought you were cute, but I’m not so good at communicating, I guess.”

Kageyama’s blush creeps up his neck, wraps around it to connect with his face, a slow, torturous crawl, and for all the calmness that Hinata had been lost in just seconds ago, he’s suddenly a livewire. He sits up straight and knocks Kageyama’s hand astray in the process, eyes wide and mouth opening so he can wail. “You thought I was cute and you didn’t _say_ anything? We could have been dating this whole _time_?!”

Hinata rocks forward, tipping the stool so he can grab hold of Kageyama’s shirt. Kageyama is completely caught off guard, and in his haste to get at Kageyama – to hit him, to shake him, maybe to kiss him, who _knows_ – Hinata is realizing, now, that he has made a grand error in judgment.

“Hinata, dumbass, wait–”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than the two go flying to the floor, stools clattering down with them, and Hinata is reminded of that first night. This time, however, Kageyama is braced above him, over him, shadowing the fluorescent lights of the drugstore from sight. A wide eyed glare is being fixed on him, but he doesn’t care, Jesus, he _really_ doesn’t care – neither does he hesitate to use the grip he still has on Kageyama’s work shirt to tug him down and in, sealing their lips in a hard kiss.

The angle is off, their noses bump, Kageyama’s breath smells like raspberry from the Airhead they’d shared earlier when Hinata gets a sudden nose full, but Hinata has never had a more perfect kiss in his entire life. When they part, Hinata has a difficult time letting Kageyama pull back, chasing after his mouth, those beautiful lips he’s spent _months_ staring at, pressing quick, pecking kisses to them as Kageyama chuckles and eventually shoves his head gently back down to the floor.

“Jesus, Hinata, relax.” There’s a pleasant, glowing pink on his cheeks, Hinata notes, and he smiles, big and happy and wide.

“I kept coming back every night to mess things up so you would pay attention to me.” Hinata says in a rush, not even ashamed or embarrassed when Kageyama laughs right in his face, raspberry breath and all. “I thought I was being _so_ obvious, even Suga-san knew, and I thought, maybe, y’know, that you were interested, too, but I could never be sure, and I didn’t want to risk messing up a good friendship if I was wrong.”

Kageyama’s smile softens, his eyes, as they always do when it comes to Hinata’s shenanigans, rolling. He leans down and swallows up Hinata’s pleased noise of surprise. This time the kiss is better, slower, more languidly easy. Hinata could spend a lifetime doing this, kissing Kageyama, even if it _is_ behind the counter of a drugstore where they could be caught by customers at any given moment. Kageyama could lose his job for this, but Hinata finds himself not caring too much. Being a little selfish is good, every now and then.

When Kageyama pulls back (again) he drags their noses together, keeps himself close as he speaks. “You can be sure now though, right?” He asks.

And Hinata – Hinata positively _beams_ , getting his hands in Kageyama’s hair to press him down for yet another kiss, nothing but smile pressed to dazzling, beautiful smile, hoping he gets to spend a lot of his time doing this, free of restriction, from here on out.

“Yeah. I can be sure now.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you're interested in requesting your own fic, find me over on tumblr at freckledhinata! always accepting prompts. c:


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